EriksDesdemona
by pontmerstarks
Summary: A whole bunch of one-shots based off of the wonderful DeviantArt by the highly esteemed EriksDesdemona.
1. Charles

_This is a work of fiction, and is based upon characters in Gaston Leroux's The Phantom of the Opera. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental._

_Copyright © 2012  
><em>__K. E. Graham__

__All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, or other, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.__

Erik sighed and touched Christine's belly fondly. It had been many months since the night after his attack that his beautiful love came back to him and let him love her. Now her belly was six months swollen with their first child.

Her chocolate hair fell across his chest and over his shoulder as she leaned against him. "What are you thinking, _mon amour_?" she asked.

"Our child, _mon ange_." he said, smiling into her hair. "What should we name her...or maybe him?"

His wife pursed her lips for a second before smiling down at her belly. "For a girl...Marguerite?"

Erik smiled wider, remembering that the first song that he taught her was the Jewel aria. "Of course. It would be a wonderful name for a little girl born to us."

"And...a son?"

Erik cocked his head. "Probably after your father, darling."

"You want to name our son Gustave?" As Erik nodded, Christine shook her head. "What about your father?"

Erik squeezed his eyes shut against the pain he expected, but realized that it didn't hurt. "His name was Charles, dear. I...I was supposed to be named after him, but when my mother saw my face she no longer cared and had me named after the priest who blessed me."

Christine's smile fell. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to bring up something that hurt you. We can name our child anything you wish."

"Christine, telling you of my mother and the way she treated me doesn't hurt anymore. I would love for our son to be named after his grandfather."

Christine smiled. "So, for Marguerite, what would her middle name be?"

"Augmenté," he said without giving it a second thought.

"And for Charles?"

"Gustave." A smile graced the lips of both mother and father. A son with the names of both of the parents or a daughter named after their favorite show and their symbolic flower...perfection.

Christine felt a kick in her womb and smiled.


	2. Let the Dream Begin

_**DISCLAIMER: I own neither the pictures that these are inspired by nor Phantom of the**_**_ Opera_.**

Sometimes he liked to stay awake a little bit longer than her. He liked to watch her dream. Sometimes she would smile. Sometimes she would giggle.

But some of the time she would scream. Some of the time she would writhe. These were her nightmares. Her nightmares were mostly about him dying, which he truly couldn't understand. Did she really not want him to die? She was his wife by her own volition, and she chose to stay because she wanted to. He hadn't forced her into anything. He would have been absolutely fine with letting their relationship remain as it had been when he was her teacher. Well, without her avoiding his every touch and answering his heartfelt questions with short, fearful answers. Just...friends, you know?

Well, she wasn't happy with that. She told him quite firmly, "I intend to spend the rest of my life at your side, and you want me to be _just a friend_?"

Of course, with her tone like that, he had to reflect on what they both wanted. The pair met for a discussion at length about their emotions, and it wasn't as awkward as some say it is. They both knew each other very well, and they both had the same way of thinking about relationships.

After being emotionally drained by their conversation, Erik tried to crawl back to his coffin to rest. But Christine wouldn't let him. She just about dragged him into her room and made him wait, standing awkwardly, as she changed into her nightgown. When she returned, she coaxed him to slide between the sheets of her bed with her. She had been about three months pregnant with Charles then. Now that he was born, as were his younger sister and brother Marguerite and Damien, he could hold his arms quite comfortably about her slim waist and hold her close. And he could watch her.

Tonight was a good dream.

These were his favorite dreams: where she was peaceful, with a contented tiny smile upon her lips, her hand curled delicately beneath her cheek.

He found his eyes drifting shut. He tightened his arms about his beloved and placed his face in her hair. Right before he fell under, he felt her arm come around herself on top of his.

He was smiling as he slept that night.


	3. Christine Doodle

_**DISCLAIMER: I own neither the pictures that these are inspired by nor Phantom of the**_**_ Opera_.**

So he left me at home, watching his cat.

Again.

I don't really mind her...it's just that she minds me. She will only consent to be in a room nonthreatening to me when Erik is out. When he's home, I'm instantly ignored and get hissed at if I try to go near him. He thinks that it's cute, but it's most certainly malicious.

At least she won't harm me if Marguerite or Damien is in my arms. She has a natural love of our children, because they're a part of Erik, but she doesn't like me (for what reason I don't know...aren't I, as his wife, a part of Erik as well?).

But today Erik took Maggie, Charlie, and 'Mien with him to the Bois. And why can't I come, you ask?

Because they're going birthday present shopping for me. And, of course, even if that weren't the case, Erik told me to stay. And, like the good wife that I am, I listen.

Of course Erik's little feline princess comes to lay on our bed. Why wouldn't she? The air between us is awkward, the two of us staring at each other. I sigh and lean my chin on my hands. I watch her out of the corner of my eye to make sure that she doesn't attack while I'm calm.

"Christine! We're home!" Erik's voice called out.

"Mama! Mama!" our children all cry at once. I smile, stand, and walk out of our bedroom. The second I am in the hallway, three little pairs of arms are around me. I hug each of my children in turn, and then turn to my husband. His cat is in his arms, but when he sees that I am there she is put on the ground and I am swept up into his arms.

And, in that moment, that cat met my eyes. We have a moment of understanding: Erik was hers, and he still cares for her, but Erik now belongs to me. And that's not going to change.

Ever.


End file.
